


la lune et le soleil

by petitepeach



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Then, canon up to a point, happy birthday janice!!!, warning: extremely sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-28 10:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petitepeach/pseuds/petitepeach
Summary: Don’t worry about the sun and the moon. They always find each other eventually. But only for very, very special moments.or, a story about a moon, a sun, and a twilight sky





	la lune et le soleil

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to j/juliettes, my love, my sun and stars, my emotional support mec, the eliott to my lucas, or lucas to my eliott, etc.
> 
> happy birthday babe 💛
> 
> (this has hugely diverged from my original concept i had in mind, but i really hope you like it!!)
> 
> update: there is now some absolutely GORGEOUS [artwork](https://briallenko.tumblr.com/post/187711998281/eliott-was-the-sun-and-lucas-was-the-moon) by the lovely Barb, inspired by this story 🧡

When Lucas Lallemant is very young, he asks his maman where the sun goes at night.

_Is it magic?_ Lucas asks, staring up at her with wide eyes lit by the moon, covers pulled up to his chin.

_Oh no_ , his maman says. _The sun goes somewhere else. To the other side of the world, so other people can enjoy the sunshine, too._

Lucas thinks he might get it. He knows there are people who live very, very far away. He just didn’t know that people could be so far that their days are different than his.

It’s a strange thought.

_And then when we have sunlight,_ his maman says, smoothing a hand over his hair, _the moon goes to the other side of the world, so those people can sleep. Just like how you’re going to sleep now._

_So_ , Lucas starts, screwing his face up because he’s not sure if this is a dumb question, a question only babies would ask, but he wants to ask it, _the sun and the moon never meet?_

_Well, sometimes they do, but not very often. Only on special occasions._

Lucas thinks that’s sad, and he’s not completely sure why. _But what if they’re friends?_ He asks. _They still can’t see each other?_ There’s a word he wants to use but he doesn’t know it, only the feeling it could hold, and not being able to verbalize it is frustrating.

Lonely.

His maman knows what he’s trying to say, and she knows her Lucas has a soft heart—she sees it all the time, saw it earlier that day on the way to the grocery store, when Lucas had saved a ladybug from the sidewalk and deposited it safely to the grass.

Her Lucas has a soft heart, and she knows, she knows it very well may get him hurt, knows she can’t protect him from everything, but she loves him all the more for it. 

_Lucas_ , she says softly, _you’re so full of love, my sweet boy._ She kisses the top of his head. _But don’t worry about the sun and the moon. They always find each other eventually. But only for very, very special moments._

Lucas is fourteen when he has to read _Roméo et Juliette_ in class.

He’s a science student by now, so he knows all about the burning fireball in the sky, a giant star that will swallow the world whole one day. He knows all about the rock that reflects the burning fireball’s light, the rock that has eight phases and a face of craters. These are sky giants that live inside of songs, poetry, art.

Lucas sees when Sophie Tremblay almost faints from a line in the play, sighing into the palm of her hand, loud enough that it makes Mme. Delacroix smile and pause in her reading.

_Quelle lumière brille soudain à travers cette fenêtre? C'est l'Orient; Juliette est le soleil.—Lève-toi, soleil de beauté; tue la lune jalouse…_

Lucas doesn’t understand it, why being called the sun is so appealing, considered to be so romantic, when it really means what, you’re a flaming, temperamental ball of gas? It’s too much for Lucas, who is already annoyed to be taking literature classes, who already knows that there’s something wrong with him, something that makes him stare when Marc Sainte-Germain takes off his sweatshirt in class, and his t-shirt rides up with the motion. 

And Lucas knows his generation is supposed to be accepting, open-minded, but he’s also in high school, where words are like knives and eyes are even sharper, so he closes off even further. So he does’t even try to understand _Roméo et Juliette_ because it’s a romance, and romance is not for boys like Lucas.

Literature class ends and Lucas forgets about the play, forgets about the space of smooth, bare skin between Marc Sainte-Germain’s t-shirt and the line of his jeans. 

A year passes, then two years, and it becomes easier to keep himself in check, to treat any thoughts related to boys as passing moments of curiosity, nothing more. He listens with half an ear when the boys talk about girls. He starts saying things about girls too, words that are crass and cheap and mean nothing when they leave his lips.

He doesn’t know where he’s headed, but he keeps going. He doesn’t really have a choice.

This planet is always spinning forwards. The sun rises and sets and rises.

Lucas is sixteen when he sees Eliott Demaury for the first time. 

He’s guarded now, his soft heart beating faintly under barbed wire—layers it wrapped itself up in after his parents divorced, after his papa abandoned him, and his maman was sent away, and Lucas was left with nothing more than weekend visiting hours and an e-transfer that comes every month. 

His heart is protected, yes, but the other side of security is a fear to move, too scared the wires will pierce his heart’s thin skin if it ever jumps, if it ever beats too fast.

But there’s a boy that walks into Daphné’s meeting (at that moment, just a boy, not yet known to Lucas as Eliott Demaury) and the boy is beautiful, so beautiful that Lucas’s chest feels tight, that the wires wrapped around his heart strain with how it threatens to come alive.

The sun is shining in through a window next to Lucas and it hits the boy’s eyes, turning light blue into green-grey. It catches on the edge of the boy’s teeth when he smiles and Lucas is so…maybe confused is the right word. Confused. Startled. He wants to ask the boy, _where did you come from? Where have you been this whole time?_

He desperately, so desperately, wants to ask, _do you see me the way I see you?_

The meeting ends, but Lucas could not tell you what happened during it, couldn’t even tell you how long it was, too swept up by a boy he doesn’t even know, a boy with impossibly bright eyes and a smile made of pure sunshine.

Lucas knows him now, knows the boy with the sunshine smile as _Eliott_ , and it’s better and it’s so much worse, because Lucas _knows_ him.

He knows Eliott draws, knows that he’s a bad dancer, has questionable taste in music, and even more questionable taste in beer. He knows that Eliott is funny, and sweet, and smart, and a little bit strange, and he thought it would be better, to pluck Eliott from the deep recesses of his mind and give him more dimension, paint him as a person rather than a picture. He thought, maybe, they could be friends. And they are, they are friends, but it’s not enough for Lucas.

He can barely handle it now, how badly he wants to kiss Eliott.

He thinks about it a lot, about being folded into Eliott’s long arms, being held close, sharing breaths, and stealing some of Eliott’s sunshine warmth for himself.

It’s hard not to. He’s been drifting in cold, dead space for so long.

The barbed wires around his heart are tight, pulling, piercing, and Lucas is bleeding out desperate, hopeless infatuation.

But maybe it’s not hopeless, because Eliott asks him to go somewhere, one Friday night when the streets are still soaked with rain and the moon is hidden behind a cloud. 

“Where are we going?” Lucas asks.

“You’ll see,” Eliott says. His smile is the sun eclipsed behind a secret and Lucas can do nothing but follow him. 

Eliott takes him to a park, a hidden forest in the middle of Paris that is dark and quiet, an entirely different planet to the busy avenues and flickering streetlights beyond its iron gate.

“I come here when I want to be alone,” Eliott says, and Lucas makes a joke about Eliott giving away his one hiding place, but Eliott just laughs and says, “No, but right now it’s special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah, special.”

Lucas turns his smile into his shoulder in the dark, hiding, but he also pretends that his phone dies so Eliott has to guide him, so he has to stand close to Eliott to follow the narrow trail of his flashlight.

In the back of his mind, he hears his maman’s voice. _They always find each other eventually. But only for very, very special moments._

Is it?

Lucas still doesn’t like Shakespeare but he’s starting to think it’s possible that people can be celestials too, even if only for a moment, when they’re in the midst of something too big to be held by human bodies.

Eliott takes him into a tunnel, and it’s dark, the only bit of light coming from Eliott’s flashlight, bouncing off of Lucas like he’s the moon, reflecting, and it’s true because there’s he goes, Eliott dances away and Lucas follows him, sun setting moon rising. 

Lucas is greedy for more of his light, and frightened for what will happen when he loses it. 

The flashlight goes out, and there’s a crack of thunder and Lucas is in the dark but he can just make him out, Eliott standing at the mouth of the tunnel, drenched by the rain, his flashlight abandoned to the ground. 

Lucas goes to him, and he reaches out for him— _Eliott, Eliott, Eliott_ —he’s taking a chance, peeling back the barbed wire from his bleeding heart, leaving it soft and vulnerable for Eliott’s hands to hold it, steal it, destroy it.

He reaches out for Eliott, hands out, fingers aching, but Eliott is there, grasping onto them and pulling Lucas closer, just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough that Lucas falls into him, bodies crashing together against the thunder overhead, rainwater catching in their eyes, between their lips.

They’re barely visible in the dark, two bodies that can hardly be discerned from one another with how tightly they’re pressed together, barely separating for more than a breath before they have to touch again, again, again, _again…_

Eliott is his boyfriend now.

Lucas never thought he would have one of those. Not ever.

He never thought he could be this stupidly, ridiculously happy.

It’s bursting out of him, all the time, his entire being coming alive when Eliott’s fingers brush against his when they’re sitting with the boys, when Eliott comes up behind Lucas in the hallway and wraps his arms around him, when Eliott kisses him twice before they have to part—always twice, always dipping back in for one more.

It’s intense, the way Lucas longs for Eliott before he even leaves.

He never thought it could be like this.

“I’ve never seen you this happy,” Yann says to him one day, when it’s just the two of them, out for kebabs. “I mean it, Lucas. Not to be weird, but I’m so _proud_ of you.”

(It’s not weird, not at all, but Lucas acts like it is, making a gagging sound at Yann and getting smacked on the back of the head for it—which is good, because Lucas thinks he may have been five seconds away from crying otherwise.)

Eliott becomes a fixture in their friend group, hanging out with them between classes, coming along on nights out.

He joins them at a house party on a Saturday night, starting at Lucas’s place for pre-drinks then stumbling out the front door to go to Alex’s.

Lucas gets a bit drunk at the start of the night, making a big scene when he arrives at Alex’s, taking over the dance floor with Emma and Alexia, and making out with Eliott in the kitchen, boosting himself up onto the counter so he can wrap his legs around Eliott’s waist, get Eliott exactly where he wants him.

He’s so greedy for him, for Eliott, for his sweet mouth and his big hands and his warmth, his warmth that burrows into every deep fissure of Lucas’s heart, alighting every dark crater of the moon.

Lucas’s own personal sun.

He stops drinking after that, for no reason in particular other than he gets caught in conversation with Alex, feels nauseous on his way to the bathroom, and had been only a breath away from saying _I love you_ to Eliott. Right there in Alex’s kitchen, his hands sticky from spilt vodka, Eliott’s tongue tasting like cheap beer.

There are about five thousand reasons why Lucas cannot, absolutely cannot say those words, and the first one is that he and Eliott have only been dating for three weeks, and Lucas is not going to be that person. He’s not. His soft heart is bare, bare and exposed and beating, but he can’t let it speak.

So Lucas stops drinking because maybe he’s worried about saying too much too soon, but Eliott doesn’t stop, and by the time they leave Alex’s Lucas is tipsy at best and Eliott is drunk, properly drunk, stumbling into trees and giggling at himself.

“Lucas, your boyfriend is wasted,” Basile says, the most obvious thing.

“So are you,” Arthur points out from where he’s sat down on the curb, tilting his back to look at the night sky. “And so am I.”

“Aw Arthur, come on man, don’t sit down we’re going home.”

“Home,” Eliott whispers into Lucas’s ear. Lucas is supporting him by his waist, one of Eliott’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he’s huffing a bit with the effort because Eliott is dragging his feet, he is _not_ helping, and he is _heavy_. “I wanna go home with you,” Eliott slurs into Lucas’s ear, the words quiet and rushed like they’re illicit, like they’re a secret.

But Lucas responds, indulgent, “You are.” 

Eliott hums happily at that, pleased. “I wanna kiss you when we get home.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna kiss you for a long time. Forever.”

“That’s fine, but you’re also really drunk, so what you’re going to get is water and sleep.”

“Ugh.” Eliott makes a face. “Bor- _ing_.”

Lucas stops, because he realizes it’s only him and Eliott. Yann and Basile are back with Arthur, who’s still sitting on the curb.

“What’s up?” He calls to them, and Yann waves him off.

“One second, we just need to get the space cadet on his feet.”

“But the sky looks so _cool_ ,” Arthur is saying, eyes still fixed on the stars as Yann pulls him to his feet. “Do you see it, guys? Do you see the way the moon looks?”

“Yeah, Arthur, the moon is cool.”

“I like the moon.” Eliott whispers to Lucas, slumping against him a bit more. “But do you know what? I like you more.”

Lucas laughs. “Oh yeah?”

Eliott nods against him, tilting his face down to Lucas’s neck. He starts humming something, a song that Lucas can’t place, at first.

It’s not until they’re walking again, Arthur now being supported by Yann and Basile, that Eliott picks up the song again, humming it into Lucas’s hair, occasionally throwing in a lyric, occasionally breaking with the song to giggle.

The song is in English, but Lucas knows it, a little.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey._

_You’ll never know dear, how much I love you._

_Please don’t take my sunshine away._

Lucas never thought he’d be the type of guy that would use pet names. 

He usually makes fun of those couples, the ones that spend their whole lunch hour making out and are all _baby_ , and _sweetie_ , and whatever. He would never admit that really, he was jealous of those couples, of how freely and easily they could give their love to each other with the eyes of a high school on them.

Lucas never thought he’d be the type of guy that would use pet names, but it turns out Eliott is absolutely the type of guy to use pet names.

He meets Lucas outside of the school at the end of the day, bounding over with his sunshine smile at full brightness.

“Hi baby,” he greets him, bending down to pull Lucas into a tight hug.

Lucas is blushing when he says _hi_ back, burying his face into Eliott’s shoulder.

A week later they’re at lunch with the boys, and they’re talking about weekend plans, about a new action movie Yann and Basile want to see on Saturday.

Lucas and Eliott had planned to spend the weekend together, alone, at Lucas’s place since both Mika and Lisa are going to be away. He says as much to the boys, nervous about seeming like he’s ditching them, but Yann and Arthur just smile knowingly, and Basile laughs and makes an obscene hand gesture at him.

Eliott has his arm resting across the back of Lucas’s chair, but he leans close, whispers into Lucas’s ear, “Hey, are you sure? We can go hang out with the guys if you want.”

Lucas shakes his head minutely. “No, I’m sure.”

“Alright babe,” Eliott says simply, kissing the side of his head.

That weekend they’re making out on Lucas’s couch, Lucas sitting in Eliott’s lap with his hands in Eliott’s hair, Eliott with his arms wrapped around Lucas’s waist, hands sliding under his t-shirt to touch the skin of his back.

“Baby,” Eliott murmurs against Lucas’s lips. It doesn’t seem like he wants to say anything else so Lucas keeps kissing him, the pace of their kisses slow, soft, Lucas’s lips tingling from how sore they are.

“Baby,” Eliott says again, nonsensically, using one hand to bring Lucas’s hips closer to his, pulling Lucas more firmly into his lap. He mouths across Lucas’s cheek and down to his neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the skin there. “Baby, baby, baby.” 

Lucas giggles and pulls back, moves one hand to Eliott’s neck to tilt his head up, to look him in the eye. “What?” He asks, and Eliott blinks, his eyes distant, his face dazed.

“Nothing.” Eliott says. “Hi, I guess.”

Lucas snorts. “Hi?”

Eliott shrugs, his cheeks pink. “Hi like, hi you’re so beautiful. Hi, I love kissing you. Hi, can you please keep kissing me?” He’s leaning back in, eyes on Lucas’s lips and Lucas is still smiling, shaking his head.

“Okay, then, hi,” he whispers into the space between their mouths. He lets out a breath, says, “Hi sunshine,” and the end of the word gets caught on Eliott’s lips.

He likes it, he thinks, so he tries it again the next morning, when he comes back into his bedroom with two cups of coffee, setting them down on the bedside table and sliding back into the covers, to where Eliott is a tangle of boyish limbs, blue sheets, and sunlight-warm skin. Lucas slides over until he can drape himself across Eliott’s back, press his lips to his shoulder blade.

Eliott hums, turning his face to the side on his pillow. “Morning,” he mumbles.

Lucas smiles at him, brushing a gentle hand through Eliott’s hair. “Good morning sunshine,” he says, pressing another kiss to Eliott’s shoulder. 

Eliott sighs and smiles, and Lucas is intoxicated by the way he feels when he says it.

So he keeps saying it.

“Hi sunshine,” he laughs at Eliott next week at school, when Eliott comes jogging over to him in the hallway, sweeping Lucas up into his arms and carrying him away from where he was talking to Emma.

Eliott tries to cook Lucas dinner one night and fails miserably, and he looks so sad as Lucas is ordering them Chinese food, so disappointed that Lucas has to kiss him on the cheek. “You tried, sunshine, and that’s what matters.”

He and Eliott are in the park, on a blanket and Eliott leans over him, balanced on one arm, and he asks Lucas, “Why do you call me that?” 

He’s been pestering Lucas with questions all afternoon, giddy and attention-hungry, poking at Lucas whenever he isn’t paying attention.

Lucas squints up at him, pretends he doesn’t know. “Call you what?”

“Sunshine.” The sun is behind Eliott as he says it, the late-afternoon light that’s yellow-golden, lazy and decadent. It turns the tips of Eliott’s hair golden, eyes that strange and beautiful green-grey-blue. 

Lucas turns his gaze away from Eliott. “It’s just something to call you. I mean, you call me baby.”

“I do.” Eliott drops down to the blanket, plants his elbows on either side of Lucas’s face. It makes him impossible to look away from, but Lucas still tries. “Because you’re my baby.”

“Well,” Lucas sighs, “then yeah, it’s the same.”

“Because I’m your sunshine?” Eliott is grinning, eyes crinkling. His voice is excited, teasing. “Go on, say it. Say it.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re my sunshine. It’s whatever, you don’t have to make it it weird.”

“Does that mean you can be the moon?” Eliott’s asking the question like he’s serious, face eager as he stares down at Lucas. 

Yes, that is what it means. Eliott, a boy of the sun, bright and warm and alive, and Lucas, a boy of the moon, quiet and somber and bathed in shadow.

But Lucas shrugs his shoulders up, shirt catching on the soft material of the blanket. “Yeah, I guess.”

Eliott kisses him then, moves his hands to the sides of Lucas’s face, pressing him down into the earth. 

“Do you know what that means?” Eliott asks when they both come up for air. “We can be immortalized in the sky. We’ll be there together, forever.” Lucas is quiet, and Eliott continues. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to be together forever?”

Lucas nods. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Eliott’s face falls, and he leans back up on his elbows. “That’s the only way we can do it.” He reaches a hand up and brushes Lucas’s hair back from his face. “Nothing on earth lasts, you know. Everything breaks before it dies and dies before it decomposes.”

Lucas stares at him, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing.” Eliott is back to smiling, runs another hand through Lucas’s hair. “We don’t have to worry about that, anyway. We’re going to live in the sky.”

Lucas doesn’t hear from Eliott that weekend.

At first he tries not to think of it, figures that Eliott must have gotten busy with something, maybe family, and is away from his phone.

That’s on Friday.

On Saturday Lucas gets pissed, because he and Eliott had plans that day. They were going to go to a new museum exhibition that opened up that week, and for burgers afterwards. Nothing fancy, but Lucas had been looking forward to it all week. 

He goes to sleep that night angry and alone.

On Sunday Lucas gets worried, texting Alex to ask if he’s seen Eliott anywhere, asking Yann or Imane if they’re heard anything, but no one has.

He’s pacing around his apartment, tapping his phone against his lips and he’s scared, he’s so scared that something has happened to Eliott, something horrible, and Lucas has no way of knowing, _or_ , a voice in the back of Lucas’s head says, _maybe he’s done with you and doesn’t want to—_

Lucas’s phone buzzes with a call from an unsaved number. France area code.

It’s Eliott’s mother.

Lucas has only met her once, in passing, at Eliott’s place. She’d been kind to Lucas, asking him if he wanted to stay for dinner, gently teasing Eliott when he asked her not to embarrass him. She sounds different now than she did that day. Where her voice had been honey-warm kindness before, was now blue-black with stress.

Lucas tries to make sense of it, when she says, _hypomania_ , and, _depressive episode_ , tries to calmly understand when she says, _he’s only spoken once today, and it was to ask to see you._

He can’t fully grasp what’s happening, but he knows if Eliott’s asking for him, he’s going to go to him.

Eliott’s father answers the door when Lucas arrives, smiling sadly at Lucas and telling him to come inside.

“We assumed he’d told you by now,” Eliott’s father says. “I’m sorry if this is shocking for you.”

“Well, I mean…” Lucas pauses. “I don’t really know what’s…”

Eliott’s mom sighs. “It’s best to hear it from him, when he wants to tell you. But what I can tell you is he’s been sleeping for the last two days. He hasn’t been eating much and he might not talk to you, but he asked for you. He wanted to see you. And in a depressive episode, that’s…” She trails off and glances at her husband, and he nods. “Well, we think it might be good for him to see you.”

Lucas is nodding, but he feels numb. He’s getting it, a little bit. 

Eliott isn’t well like Lucas’s maman isn’t well. There’s something in his brain that doesn’t function quite right, something that doesn’t always make itself known, but sometimes does.

But Lucas loves his maman. And he loves Eliott. That’s all he needs to know.

He goes into Eliott’s bedroom, and its dark inside, despite being early in the evening, the curtains drawn tightly against the setting sun. 

Eliott is a shapeless mound on the bed, only the top of his head sticking out from the cocoon of thick duvet.

Lucas hesitates, not sure what he’s supposed to do in this moment, what Eliott would want. Lucas doesn’t want to make anything worse, he really doesn’t.

But Eliott’s mom said, _just be there for him_ , so that’s what Lucas does.

He unlaces his sneakers and leaves them on the floor, dropping his hoodie onto the chair at Eliott’s desk. He approaches the bed slowly, starting with one knee, then the other, sliding onto the mattress at Eliott’s back, inching forward bit by bit until he’s close enough to touch.

He reaches one hand out, lays it against the duvet, tightly wrapped around Eliott’s body.

“Eliott,” he whispers, and there’s no response except for Eliott shifting backwards slightly, towards Lucas.

Lucas presses his whole body up against Eliott’s back, smoothing his hand down Eliott’s shoulder, across his body until it rests somewhere near his chest, Lucas’s arm crooked around him.

He feels more than hears the deep inhale and exhale Eliott takes, his body shuddering once with the motion.

“Eliott,” Lucas says again, helplessly, his soft heart curling in on itself with the sight of his sun so dim. So lightless. _I love you_ , he wants to say, but it’s not right. It’s not right to say that when Eliott may not be able to understand it, or respond. Those words aren’t for Lucas to steal. They’re for him to give away.

So Lucas does the only other thing he can think of. He nuzzles his face into Eliott’s hair and starts to sing, quietly, humming where he can’t remember the words.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey._

_You’ll never know dear, how much I love you._

_Please don’t take my sunshine away._

Eliott wakes him in the middle of the night, his hand smoothing down the side of Lucas’s face, resting on the side of his neck.

“Lucas?” He whispers, so quietly, but Lucas hears it, open his eyes to see Eliott staring at him warily, as though Lucas is about to disappear into smoke.

“Hi,” Lucas murmurs, voice hoarse from sleep. “You okay?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Uh.” Lucas blinks and rubs a hand down his face, grasping onto Eliott’s hand when he reaches it, kissing Eliott’s knuckles. “Your mom called me. She said you weren’t feeling well, but that you were asking for me.”

“I thought…” Eliott shivers when Lucas presses another kiss to his hand. “I thought you came in last night, but I wasn’t sure if it was you.”

“It’s me.” Lucas says simply, lowering their joined hands to the pillow, resting in the space between their faces. “I’m here.”

Eliott’s mouth moves to form the words _you’re here_ but no sound comes out.

“I mean it, Eliott.” Lucas says, and he’s still waking up, still getting his bearings, but he wants to say this. He wants Eliott to know. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, okay? I’m here because I…care about you.”

Eliott licks his lips. Swallows. 

“There’s…there’s something I need to tell you.” He says at length. “Something about me.”

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me now. You can tell me whenever it feels right for you.”

“No, no, I’ve wanted to tell you for a while but I was…” Eliott’s voice trails off. Lucas squeezes his hand once and Eliott squeezes back. “I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t. I don’t want to lose you. Lucas, I—I’ve never felt like this before. I feel so good with you. So good it’s unbelievable.”

“Hey.” Lucas’s free hand comes up to the side of Eliott’s face, gently strokes his cheek. “I feel good with you too.”

“Yeah, but it’s just…” Eliott takes another breath. Lucas can feel his exhale against his skin, feel his hand tremble against his own. “I’m bipolar.”

And it’s like, everything that had been running through Lucas’s head, all of his worries and guesses and speculations melt together, like paint splashes washing down the drain. He hears _bipolar_ , and he gets it, he gets what Eliott’s parents were saying, he gets why Eliott disappeared for a few days, why he still feels distant even now, close under Lucas’s hands but so far away, floating in space while Lucas is on the ground.

“Okay.” Lucas says. “Thank you for telling me, Eliott.”

Eliott pauses for a second, then says, so softly, “It doesn’t bother you?”

“No.” Lucas runs his hand through Eliott’s hair. “It doesn’t bother me. I still feel the same way about you. I still want to be with you.”

Eliott is silent.

“And,” Lucas continues, hesitantly, not wanting to overwhelm him, “anyone that tells you it bothers them? They don’t deserve you. There is nothing wrong with you, okay? You’re…amazing. You’re perfect.”

Eliott breaks at that, a choked sob coming out of his mouth.

“Lucas.” He says, and that’s all he says, his shoulders starting to shake with hitched breaths, his eyes pooling, salt water spilling over his cheeks. “Lucas.”

“Oh.” Lucas whispers, blinking back his own tears. “Sunshine, come here.” He opens his arm out and Eliott shuffles right up to him, planting his face into Lucas’s chest and sobbing, his whole body trembling when Lucas wraps himself around him.

“I’m sorry,” Eliott says, nonsensically, and Lucas shushes him, smoothing his hands down Eliott’s back.

“It’s okay, Eliott. It’s okay.”

Eliott falls back asleep like that, held tightly in Lucas’s arms, Lucas’s mouth pressed to the top of his head.

The next time Lucas wakes up, it’s before Eliott does, and he slips out of his bed quietly, pads out to the empty apartment. 

There’s a fresh pot of coffee on the kitchen counter, and a note from Eliott’s father giving Lucas his mobile number and telling him to call if he needs anything.

It’s brief, the note, but so full of caring, of gentle concern, that Lucas stares at it for a long time, thinking about families and love and affection, and how those things can look different to what you’d expect. He thinks about his maman, about the last time he saw her, which was weeks ago. He thinks about spending an entire day with her next weekend, thinks about asking Eliott if he wants to come, if he’s up for it.

He thinks his maman would like Eliott. He thinks she would like Eliott’s parents, these people so full of light and warmth that they were able to create Eliott—an entire galaxy of sunshine and stardust. 

Lucas fills two mugs with coffee and carries them back into Eliott’s room, where Eliott is sitting up in bed, the covers pooled at his waist.

He blinks when he sees Lucas, whispers, “Oh,” says, “I thought I dreamt you.”

And Lucas says the same thing he said last night, setting the mugs down on Eliott’s desk. “No.” He says, “I’m real. I’m here.”

He pauses at Eliott’s window and asks, “Can I open the curtains?”

Eliott nods, and Lucas pulls them back, thick sheets of dark blue parting for bright yellow and pale peach, light filling Eliott’s room so quickly it makes Lucas blink, eyes adjusting.

He turns and there’s Eliott, propped against the headboard, covered in sunlight from his hair down to his fingertips, and he’s looking at Lucas and he’s smiling, a smile so tentative and unassuming, but brighter, more radiant than anything a celestial giant could dream of, and Lucas thinks, _yes, there you are._

Later, days later, they talk about it.

Eliott talks and Lucas listens, and then Eliott listens and Lucas talks, wanting nothing more than to understand, to see the deepest parts of Eliott and share his deepest parts in turn, an exchange that happens on Eliott’s balcony, their eyes drifting towards and away from one another, their feet tangled together.

Eliott says, _I have to take medication for it, but sometimes I won’t want to._

Lucas says, _I used to blame her for everything that happened, but now I know it was all his fault._

Eliott says, _Sometimes I feel like it controls me, and I hate that._

Lucas says, _I never want to become him. Ever._

Eliott says, _I’m always so nervous to tell people, like they’ll think I’m broken somehow._

Lucas says, _I tried to make myself cold, make myself impenetrable, but I think that’s how I would become him, actually. Loveless._

Eliott says, _I was so scared to tell you, especially, because I love you._

Lucas says, _I was so scared to fall in love with you, but I did._

Here’s how it works.

Eliott Demaury is the sun and Lucas Lallemant is the moon.

That’s what Lucas thinks—Eliott the sunshine boy and himself, Lucas, the pale moon.

That’s what Eliott thinks—himself, burning too hard and too bright, too blinding and hot, quick to love quick to leave, all too much at once. And Lucas, the ethereal beauty of moonstone, elusive, magical, pulling Eliott towards him like the tides, the one thing Eliott can find in the dark night that lurks at the deep recesses of his mind, the one point of light that can say, _here, I’m here, you’re not alone._

He tells Lucas this one day, when they’re not doing anything particularly special, just walking along the sidewalk on a humid summer evening, dusk heavy on their shoulders, bodies coloured in pink and orange and purple. 

He tells Lucas this, and Lucas cries, folded into Eliott’s arms, hiding his face away, murmuring into Eliott’s shoulder that he never thought he could be loved like this. He never thought it would be possible.

They’re still standing there, in the middle of the sidewalk at twilight, the moon rising and the sun setting and the entire world caught between them like two palms coming together, and Lucas tells Eliott about something he asked his maman years ago, something about the moon and the sun and when they might meet.

Eliott smiles and points up, up, and they both look skywards, and there’s the moon and there’s the sun, and wait, there’s the moon and there’s the sun looking back at them.

And while yes, it might be nice to be a creature of the sky, to rule in a world of stars and meteors and impossible colour and light, to be a moon and a sun and to be adored by so many, to live within song and story and painting, there’s also something to be said for being a creature of the earth, the sort of creature that can reach out for another, and have fingers reaching back, entwined, clasped, together, together.

Eliott and Lucas walk under the twilight sky hand in hand, laughing together and in love, so in love, and isn’t that the best part of being human?

Lucas rises on his toes and kisses Eliott on the cheek, his mouth lingering there to giggle into Eliott’s ear, to whisper, _hi sunshine_ , but he’s not done, and the moon and sun themselves strain to listen, lingering far too long on their horizons, to hear Lucas whisper, _I love you._

Eliott whispers it back, _I love you_ , and kisses Lucas’s forehead.

The moon, light as a feather, rises.

The sun sighs, blushes, and sets.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you so much for reading
> 
> je t'aime toujours 
> 
> cry with me on tumblr [@lepetitepeach](https://lepetitepeach.tumblr.com)


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